


Tales from a Lost Mobile

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Other, Prompt Fic, but still could be called crack, magical realism (of a sort), not quite as cracky as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loses his mobile. John's mobile reflects on his life with John. </p><p>Ten short stories in response to ten different prompts. All ten written in under 24 hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

Prompt 1.  Begin your prompt fill with one of the following:  
 _Icy pavements and oblivious pedestrians were not ideal conditions for active pursuit of a criminal._ __  
  


  
Icy pavements and oblivious pedestrians were not ideal conditions for active pursuit of a criminal. John must have slammed into half-a-dozen people over the course of the chase, and he lost track of how many times he skidded, slipped, and fell. Somewhere in that hectic, headlong, utterly frozen chase, his mobile slipped from his coat pocket. It skidded and slid quite a ways on the ice, momentum and the relatively frictionless surface sending it flying like a hockey puck in a rink. Caught up in the pursuit, John never noticed its loss. The mobile eventually came to rest against a skip, nearly invisible in the slush and debris and shadows.

Personal electronics can be funny things. They are intensely personal, of course. And the longer you have them, the more personal they can get, and not just in terms of the data you keep on them. They become _yours_ , a piece of you. You develop a relationship with them. You adjust to their quirks, adapt to their foibles, compromise with their chip sets. They become friends, in their way.

And if you treat them well, and are the right kind of person, and have them for long enough – sometimes they become friends right back.

John had had this particular mobile for quite a while. An astonishingly long while, if you think about the kind of life he leads, and the average lifespan of his electronics. This mobile’s predecessor had lasted all of three weeks.

Cracked, half-broken, lying lost and forgotten, with half-melted snow oozing in, John’s mobile tried to hold on. Remained loyal, even as power wavered and circuits crackled ominously. Much like John himself, his mobile was stubborn and dependable and much tougher than it looked, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

And just like John, John’s mobile was a born storyteller. Oh, the tales John’s mobile could tell.


	2. Pursuit

Prompt 2.  _Railway, white, snake, jump, sandwich_.  Use all five words in your fic.  
  


Circuits hummed, electronic memories flashing backwards and forwards in time. Saved texts, stored emails, addresses, numbers, reminders of important dates, appointments, and needed groceries. Electronic conversations like echoing ghosts, swirling in the fading electronic brain like the snowflakes gradually covering the plastic surface. A text conversation from months ago, left on the phone for no particular reason, flashed across the half-darkened screen:

 

Where are you? – SH

Railway station. – JHW

Which railway station? Precision is necessary in surveillance work, John! – SH

You already know. White Hart Lane. – JHW

Excellent. Suspect should arrive shortly. Male, 6’0, blond hair, blue eyes, snake tattoo on left forearm, wearing a red hoodie, denims, and trainers. Probably breathing hard. – SH

Breathing hard? And you know this how? – JHW

Because I just watched him jump the gate and run six blocks. And throw up half a sandwich. – SH

…Right. I’ll keep my eyes open. – JHW


	3. Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular prompt response references one of my other July prompt fics, [\--EG](http://archiveofourown.org/works/664738). If you haven't read that one yet, go read it before you read this.

Prompt 3.  _Pivotal plot point, aka The Road Less Traveled_.  Take a scene, either from a known canon or one of your own stories, and re-write that scene into an AU, with one or more characters making a radical change from their previous behavior.  Show how one decision can swing the pendulum completely the opposite direction.

 

 

  
This wasn’t the first time John’s mobile had been lost. Truly lost, not just misplaced in piles of clutter at Baker Street or arbitrarily appropriated by Sherlock. No, the first time this phone had been truly lost, truly left behind, it had been dropped as John tried to elude the pursuer he was almost certain was on his track.

John hadn’t known the real danger. He might have made different choices if he had. He certainly would have made more of an effort to keep his phone in his pocket – or used it before it became lost.

The phone couldn’t stop itself from beeping when the text came in. Couldn’t stop the stranger, the _hunter_ , from finding it. From breaking past the security (John’s password was far too obvious then) and sending that mocking text back to Sherlock. “John can’t come to the phone right now. --EG.”

The phone was a bundle of plastic and circuits and wires, LCDs and LEDs. The madman had found it surprisingly stubborn, but ultimately was able to use it as a tool. Certainly was able to put it in his pocket, carry it with him as he continued after John.

Of course, if the madman hadn’t found it, hadn’t sent that message – if he hadn’t carried the phone with him as he caught up to John – things would have turned out quite differently. The phone would have been lost forever, destroyed as an artifact of a man who was no longer _alive_ to need it.

Still, from that incident forward, the mobile was curiously more difficult for anyone to use who wasn’t John or Sherlock.


	4. Memorialized

Prompt 4.  _Epistolary fic, post-it note style._  Write an epistolary fic, but each portion of the fic can only be a line or two long; the amount of words one could fit on a post-it note.  Whether you want to use text messaging, scraps of paper, table napkins, actual post-its, or whatever, the bits can only be a sentence or two at a time.  If you want to do an art post, with actual sticky notes, then by all means go for it!  
  


 

Text sequence saved March 17:

Mrs. Hudson informs me that I should apologize. –SH

Sherlock? Is that really you? – JHW

Of course it’s me. Who else would be using my mobile? – SH

Not that you could spot a spoofed message if it jumped out and danced in your lap. – SH

Right, then, it’s definitely you. – JHW

But why are you apologizing? – JHW

And what are you apologizing for? – JHW

And since when do you listen to Mrs. Hudson? – JHW

Sherlock? – JHW

Thinking. – SH

And I listen to her. I can’t help listening to her. I have ears. – SH

Functional ears. – SH

Functional, yes. Also immense capacity to ignore others. – JHW

So why listen to our landlady’s advice today? – JHW

She probably said she wasn’t our therapist. – JHW

She’d be a better therapist than the moron you go to. – SH

The kitchen sink. – SH

What? – JHW

I am meant to apologize about the kitchen sink. – SH

...What did you do to the sink? – JHW

Sherlock? – JHW

I already said I’m sorry. Let it go. – SH

 


	5. Scars

Prompt 5.  _Actions speak louder than words; ergo, breaking someone's nose is a much more effective means of communicating than verbal riposte._ Use that however it inspires you.  
  


 

They sell protective plastic cases for mobiles. Five are specifically designed to work with John’s phone model; there are half a dozen more generic ones that will function with it.

This particular mobile has been covered by ten of them, over the course of its life with John. The protective covers have done their job, more or less. They’ve also been far less durable than the mobile itself.

One mobile cover was partially eaten away by acid, from one of Sherlock’s experiments gone wrong.

One mobile cover never lost that funny smell after that trip through the sewers.

One mobile cover cracked completely when John broke a miscreant’s nose with the hand that was holding the phone at the time. The impact also sent the half-finished text, much to Lestrade’s confusion.

Two more mobile covers were too bloodstained to be useful.

Four mobile covers failed the Sherlock test. The less said about that, the better.

This current mobile cover now sports a long gash in the plastic on the back side, shattered plastic over the display, and one malformed edge that will never be the same. Even if John finds his mobile in time to save the device, he’ll have to spring for mobile cover number eleven.

 


	6. Comfort

Prompt 6.   _Gratuitous and shameless H/C/Schmoop_.  Cosy firelight, fuzzy slippers, hot tea, fleecy blankets, small gestures, kittens and unicorns, whatever brings out the schmooper in you.

 

The mobile contained several messages John had saved simply because they made him feel better every time he looked at them:

·         Regular Lemsip or Hot Orange and Wild Berry? – SH

·         The James Bond films were not entirely intolerable. – SH

·         Heard about Sarah. Sorry. Pint and darts tonight? I’ll pay. – GL

·         Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come all the same. I need you. – SH

·         [Still owe you for the assist](http://archiveofourown.org/works/367665). Thought this might serve as down payment. Hope your shoulder feels better. –SD (attachment: KittenPratfall.mov)

·         You were right. I’m going back. Love you, brat. – Harry

·         Ordered curry takeaway. Will keep yours warm. – SH

·         Evidence suggests you were right about the head. – SH

The mobile could not be said to take comfort in these messages itself, but it kept them safe even as damage threatened its memory. It had showed them often, stored them in its most secure sectors.

If a mobile could be said to take comfort in anything, it certainly took comfort in an incoming call from Sherlock’s mobile. A call, not a text, and no message left, of course. A call, simply to get John’s mobile to ring. The usual trick when John couldn’t find his mobile.

They had discovered the mobile was missing. They were looking for it. The mobile rang feebly, sound half-distorted by the snow and ice, and kept functioning.


	7. Facing Forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: If you haven't already read [Facing Forwards](http://archiveofourown.org/works/199258) (and its prequel, Mouth of Babes) by morgan_stuart, what on earth are you wasting time reading my stuff for? Go! Go now! Go read the brilliance, and then go read all her other fics, and ONLY then come back here. Seriously, just get over there. Thank me later.

  
Author's Notes:  A HUGE, HUGE thank you to [](http://morganstuart.livejournal.com/profile)[**morganstuart**](http://morganstuart.livejournal.com/), who kindly allowed me to play with her marvellous creations. This isn't even remotely worthy of her fics, BTW. Nothing I write ever could be. *bows down*  
  
  


Prompt 7.  _Playing in another sandbox_.  We all have those crucial stories we've always loved and which shaped our perceptions of characters, those ones we read over and over and love just as much the hundredth time through as we did the first time.  Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and now's your chance to flatter someone.  Choose a fanwork (anything from published pastiche to something right here on LJ or ff.net) and write a scene inspired by it, missing from it, or in that universe.  It's fanfic of a fanfic, in other words. 

 

 

 

One text session saved on John’s mobile had not been sent by John’s hand, or meant for John. He saved it anyway, as one of his favourite texts ever.

1512 GMT: Hello?

1512 GMT: John? What is it? What’s wrong?

1513 GMT: It’s not John, Daddy. I’m using John’s mobile.

1513 GMT: Sofie?

1513 GMT: I knew I could do it!

1514 GMT: I’m very impressed, sweetheart. Does John know you have his mobile?

1515 GMT: Sherlock bet I couldn’t do it. But I did!

1515 GMT: Sherlock gave you John’s mobile?

1516 GMT: I found it under the sofa.

1516 GMT: And I wanted to talk to you.

1516 GMT: He said I could text you if I could figure out how.

1516 GMT: I want to talk to you, too, sweetie, but right now Daddy’s in a meeting, and he’s going to get in trouble if he keeps texting.

1517 GMT: I want you to give the mobile to Sherlock, okay?

1517 GMT: Okay. I don’t want you in trouble.

1517 GMT: Good girl. I love you, Sofie.

1518 GMT: Sofie says she loves you too. –SH

1518 GMT: Good. And when you give him back his mobile, ask John about the conversation we had out in the stairwell.

1518 GMT: It applies to inappropriate use of mobiles, BTW.

 


	8. Freezing

Prompt 8.  _Natural disaster and its consequences_.  Whether that's flood, hurricane, forest fire, earthquake (San Fran, 1906, anyone?), volcano, or whatever - use a natural disaster in some way

 

The mobile was now almost as cold as it had ever been. Colder than it had been when John had been locked in that industrial freezer. Colder than when Sherlock had spilled liquid nitrogen near – but fortunately not on – it. Colder than it had been the day John had been forced to walk all the way from the clinic to Baker Street, all of London paralyzed by the massive snowstorm and record low temperatures. John had walked for hours, ignoring the occasional beeps of the mobile, not wanting to chill his fingers further by attempting to manipulate the mobile’s buttons. Not knowing or seeing Sherlock’s increasingly concerned messages, not until after he’d safely made it home.

This storm wasn’t quite the natural disaster that one had been, but it was disaster enough. The streets remained nearly empty of all traffic. No one ventured near enough to hear the lost mobile’s occasional rings, growing fainter as the battery drained and the snow and ice piled up around it.

If a mobile could compose its own elegy, this mobile would have. Time was running out.

 


	9. Elegaic Textameter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: I don't do poetry. Adapted from the mysterious author of "Elegy," whoever he might have been (probably not Shakespeare).

Prompt 9.  _Rhyme_.  Crackfic or not, true poetry or not, your entire fic must in some way rhyme.  You may waive the 100-word minimum for this prompt.

 

 

 

Since Snow, and its predestinated end,

Water, abridged the circuit of its electric ways,

While both its RAM and SIM Chip did intend

The preservation of deserving praise,

What plastic monument can ever last

To record a mobile’s advent’rous past?


	10. Found and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astute readers might notice a character borrowed from one of ACD's Sherlock Holmes stories and transplanted here. Really astute readers might guess that this ties in (very tangentially) to one of my other stories, Shelter.

 

Prompt 10.   _Alpha/Omega_ \- write a fic in which there is a beginning of something, and an end of something.

 

 

  
The first call the mobile had ever made was to Sherlock.

The first text message? Also sent to Sherlock.

The first email John ever sent from any mobile was from this one. And it was, of course, to Sherlock.

The first person to use the mobile, other than John, was Sherlock. If John hadn’t been just a trifle bit quicker, not to mention well aware of Sherlock’s grabby tendencies when it came to electronic devices, Sherlock would have been the first person to use the mobile, period.

So if you asked the mobile who it belonged to, assuming you could ask a mobile such a thing, it would have unquestionably answered: John Watson. And then it would have added: And also Sherlock Holmes, on occasion.

Because I belong to John, and John shares. John cares. John cares for me, and he also cares for Sherlock. So I belong to him when I need to, because this too is how John cares for Sherlock.

And Sherlock cares for John. Enough to call in a favor. Enough to venture out into the storm, bundled up against the cold, leash in one gloved hand, his own mobile in the other. Enough to backtrack John’s route, his own keen eyes and Toby’s ultra-keen nose searching, scouring, tracking. Hunting.

Finding, at last.

“There you are,” Sherlock murmured, scooping up the mobile from the ground near the skip, fastidiously brushing away the slush and ice from its surface. “And still functioning. John will be pleased.”

He slipped John’s mobile into the pocket of his greatcoat, warm and familiar. The mobile’s case knocked gently against Sherlock’s own mobile, now stowed safely away for the journey home.

And John’s mobile gave the electronic equivalent of a weary sigh. The battery flickered once more, and then went stone dead.


End file.
